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North-West to the Rovanii Empire, there lay the city of Celentium.

Last stop between the empire and the barbarian lands, Celentium was a sprawling mass of buildings and streets, protected by a legion of loyal soldiers. It had power, wealth and influence, and had gained these things with the proper application of trade.

Anything that you wanted you could acquire in Celentium. Delicacies, mercenaries, goods and weapons. The city of white marble had them all, but there was one thing beyond all others for which it was particularly known.

Slaves were nothing new to the Rovanii; the outwards expansion of the empire was partially fuelled by the desire for new slaves. But Celentium was above and beyond all others.

The white-marble city was a haven for slavers and auctions, a place where deals were made, money was traded and fates were decided. It was said the city made more in a week than the next two nearest cities made in a year.

And, of course, of all the kinds of slaves one might want to buy, there was a particular type which fetched the highest price:

Bed-slaves. Or sex slaves, if you wanted to be vulgar.

Scantily clad slaves were a common sight on the streets. Few owners cared about their slaves’ dignity, and to some, the humiliation they experienced was a bonus. Citizens would often see women from numerous barbarian tribes naked and tied to posts which lined the streets, or marched through town, their chains clinking and their heads lowered in despair and shame.

Local taverns and businesses also made use of slaves; there were dancing girls who would parade naked for patrons, swaying to the music on top of tables as the people leered and cheered for them. Serving girls were also often slaves; they worked in unfitting dresses, scanty and teasing or simply naked in some of the more low-brow places. If a man or woman and a mind to and had the coin, they could bed any slave they wanted.

This was why many of advanced years and even more advanced wealth chose Celentium to retire to. Of all the places in the empire, it was one of the most trendy and the most infamous both. In another place, in another time, it might have been called a den of sin.

Here and now it was a gem of the Rovanii.

Ciara knew none of this. She was not Rovanii, but Keltoi – a tribe who dwelt to the north of the city. She knew little of Celentium but rumour and those rumours made her shiver now!

She had been housed in a small stone room. There was just enough space for a bed and a chamber pot. The windows were small and slitted. The single door was locked, as it had been since she’d been shoved through it the day before.

To say that things were not good would be an optimistic take. She had been captured. She had been brought to Celentium. She was to be made a slave and sold at auction. The wondered froze her heart, and she tried to focus on something else, to take her mind off the looming terror she was feeling.

The lock on the single door turned with a click. She felt a wave of tension roll through her. Someone was on the other side. The door opened, and the harsh light of day stabbed at her, making her blink. Three figures entered the room. Two clad in armour of the legion, the third in the crimson robe of an overseer.

“Up, slave!” The overseer shouted. “On your feet, whore! The time has come for you to face your fate!”

A snarling retort died in her throat. The legionaries were both armed, and neither looked much in the mood for playing around. She surged to her feet, but the soldiers were between her and the door.

The overseer had once been a powerfully built man, but he was in his mid-forties or even early fifties and his muscle was starting to melt away to fat. Nevertheless, his arms were powerful and his eyes were sharp and beady as they fixed on her.

“Come close!” He barked. “Hands out in front of you! Don’t move if you want to get through this quickly!”

Ciara wanted dearly to refuse, to shrink back into the shadows. But it wasn’t a suggestion. She stepped forward and presented her arms. Instantly, a pair of metal cuffs clicked into place, binding them in front of her. The iron felt cold against her skin.

Next, she was made to wear a collar. It was a slave’s collar, heavy and made of metal. The overseer tightened it around her neck, enjoying the helplessness that danced in her eyes. When it was done, she felt as if she had been marked. Like she was property now. The idea brought a low terror to her mind as she had never experienced before.

There was an iron loop set into the front of the collar, and the man took a leather leash off his belt and threaded it through before pulling it taut. He grabbed her roughly, theoretically to check and make sure that she was properly bound, but really just to get a feel for her body. He ran his hands down her thighs, feeling her legs, her chest, and even her breasts through the thin barrier of the dress. Eventually, just when Ciara felt like she wanted to scream, he stepped back.

“You’re secured,” He told her. “Now come with me.”

He turned and pulled hard on the lead and she stumbled out into the light. Reluctance made her steps slow, but the overseer trotted ahead. She hated being seen like this. Chained and trailing after her captor. Her arms bound in front of her, and a collar around her throat. She stumbled, trying not to look to the sides as people stared at her. By pretending that she was alone, she was able to move forward but each time someone murmured or pointed at her, the humiliation stabbed at her like a spear.

She was being led by a leash with her arms bound in front of her. Some part of her just could not accept that this was her fate. Only days ago, she had been free! Now, she was a toy to the Rovanii. She could see the overseer’s face, how he delighted in her defeat and despair. A dark horror pounded at the back of her mind, but she refused to give into it.

She wouldn’t let this be her life now. She’d discover some way out of it.

She had to.

The sights which greeted her as she was led onwards made her body quake and field her with horror. As a child, she had heard of Celentium, but she’d all the time wondered the rumours were overblown!

Now that comforting illusion was being ripped away from her. The overseer watched her with lusty eyes, lingering on her hips and her chest. His desire for her was as obvious as her fear of his touch. Yet chained and bowed, Ciara would not be able to defend herself if he decided to take her here and now.

She tried desperately not to think about it.

The villa stretched; a collection of over a dozen structures. The buildings were made of stone and marble, and there were large, clear areas between them dotted with fountains and statues. Everywhere she looked, people were laughing and drinking.

But their laughter made everything else more sinister. It was as if, to the Rovanii, no one else was really human. There were many slaves among them, most of them women. They knelt and served food. Carried drinks, or did as they were told.

All of them were naked. Ciara could not help but imagine the despair some must have been feeling. They were groped and felt up as a matter of course. No slave had the right to protest, and Ciara saw that many had been intercepted and out to other uses by guests.

One olive-skinned beauty was tied to a pole. Being punished for some slight. Her legs had been spread by lengths of wood, and she was crying out as one man penetrated her with his fingers. He ran his hand back and forth, enjoying the way her body shook as each climax hit her, stronger than the last. Ciara looked quickly away, but the other woman’s moans haunted her.

Another woman – this one a redhead with long, flowing hair- was braced against a wall. A man was fucking her from behind. His hands groped her chest, and his cock penetrated her pussy, thrusting forward again and again as the poor woman held herself against the wall. He came, his seed dripping down between her legs as he pulled himself clear of her. Before he left her, dripping and gasping, he slapped her ass and laughed to himself.

“Enjoying the sight?” The overseer said over his shoulder. “That could be you, you know.”

Ciara jumped as if she’d been struck by lightning. She didn’t feel turned on by what she had seen, she felt horrified. The other women were being fucked and teased, forced to climax again and again. Ciara felt despair for them, and fear that she would be next.

The overseer led her up and away from the villa proper. The place was backed against a large hill, and a small path led to the summit. The hill was topped by a natural spring which had been widened out and turned into a public bath.

“As punishment for the crimes of your tribe against the laws of the Rovanii – which are many – you are to be sold into slavery.”

Lies, she knew. Her tribe had never interacted with the Rovanii. They simply wanted new slaves and any excuse would do.

“Because of your beauty,” The overseer’s gaze swept across her face and body. “Which is quite astounding for a barbarian, you will be sold at a high price. But no one will pay for a bad-smelling slave. It is time to make you presentable.”

He stepped forward, and her heart hammered, growing quicker as he came closer. The metal cuffs were undone, and the overseer watched her expectantly. Ciara knew what he wanted her to do, but it was enough to make her heart freeze!

He wanted her to get naked. He wanted her to strip down in front of him and the guards, and who knew what they would do then? She swallowed, trying to think of something, anything that might preserve her dignity. The idea of begging was revolting, but the idea of being stripped naked was worse. Humiliation washed through her. Was she really thinking of begging for mercy?

She never had a chance to figure out. One of the soldiers came up behind her and gripped her by the shoulder. Ciara gave a cry of shock, but his grip was strong. The other guard approached then, and together the two began to manhandle her closer to the pool. Ciara moaned and struggled, but they were stronger than her. Terror pounded through her body, the collar clanked around her throat.

At the very edge of the pool, one of the guards drew a knife. She looked at it, alarmed. The other her still as he approached. Ciara tried to recoil, but it was impossible. The tip of the blade descended towards her, and she imagined the quick cut and flash of pain which would soon follow.

Her skin prickled, but there was no pain. The soldier drew the blade expertly down her chest, cutting both her dress and the cotton bindings which held her breasts. Ciara moved to shield herself, but the second soldier grabbed her hands and twisted them behind her back! The first reached for the tear in her dress and forced it wider, Ciara cried out, tears in her eyes, but there was no escape now. Her chest was exposed, her breasts tumbling forward as the last of their support was stolen.

The soldier with the knife ran his hands across them, and Ciara shuddered at his cold, crude touch. Her nipples were hard, fear and the cold had made them stiff. He brushed them with his fingers, enjoying how she shook like a leaf. Pleasure and heat bloomed inside of her, but there was also the icy knowledge that this was a man she did not even know.

The soldier holding her hands pressed forwards, groping her ass, making her strain against his hold. Ciara’s eyes flashed to the overseer, but there was no mercy for her there.

The man with the knife drew it lower, carefully cutting a path down her leg. His progress was slow, sensual. He was teasing her, letting her anticipate his path. Letting her skin tingle, the cold kiss of the knife only the merest fraction of an inch from drawing her blood. Ciara felt danger and also a helpless despair as her dignity was stripped away layer by layer.

The man cut down and then across, reaching out with his free hand he ripped the shredded dress from her body. Her long legs were now exposed for all to see, and the man stepped back. His gaze swept upwards, following the curve of her thighs and settling on her womanhood.

Ciara was slender of create, she had little that could hide her dignity now except for one last layer of cloth which protected her pussy from the world. The man stepped forward, the jagged knife pressed against her smooth skin, the touch of the blade was cold now. Her whole body shuddered as it wormed its way inside of her garments, edge outwards. The steel pressed against her pussy, sending shockwaves lashing through her.

“Please don’t,” Ciara moaned. “I don’t want to be a slave.”

He cut with one smooth motion, shredding the cloth and laying her bare to the world. Ciara twisted, fighting to conceal herself with a sudden, desperate burst of energy but the soldier behind her was strong and forced her to stand with her body revealed.

The man sheathed his knife and nodded to the overseer.

“Good-looking slut,” He said. “Do you think someone like us will have a chance to buy her?”

The overseer laughed.

“Not if you saved up all the gold that you ever got. Get her in the water.”

Ciara moaned as the soldier’s hand brushed between her legs. His rough fingers stroked her pussy, coming away shamefully wet.

“Are you sure we don’t have time to have some fun first? We could take it in turns to have our way with her. You could go first, boss.”

“How loyal,” The overseer remarked. “But she’s expected. Get her in the water.”

Ciara gave a shout which was more like a scream as she felt herself thrown through the air! Before she even knew what had happened, she had landed with a splash! She was sinking! Warm water pressed all around her! Desperately, she kicked upwards and emerged with an explosion of droplets.

Ciara gasped and heaved, trying to catch her breath. The soldiers watched her from above, and below she could see her reflection. Pale skin, brown hair, and a face sprinkled with freckles. She had all the time before regarded her beauty as a good thing but now she had cause to curse it.

Her captors gazed at her with unashamed lust now. As she caught her breath, as her chest heaved, her breasts bounced back and forth. As soon as she realised that she covered herself with one hand, wrapping an arm around her chest. But she was still naked, and the others still obviously turned on.

A cloth was thrown into the water beside her and the overseer called down.

“Be sure to wash properly, little slave! If you don’t, we’ll just have to do it ourselves!”

Ciara hated him then, and she hated herself for giving in so easily. Humiliation and shame clashed inside of her as her fingers closed around the wet fabric. She was mortified, knowing that the soldiers were enjoying the show of her naked body. Hating that she was cleaning herself up to be sold, in effect, making herself into an object.

Her every movement was scrutinised. The steam rose around her, outlining her chest and upper body, and she tried to pretend that this moment could go on forever.

It could not, of course. Before long, the overseer called her again. Ciara was made to leave the pool, moving up the smooth stone stairs step by step. Her body gleamed, naked and uncovered. She hated it, and she hated the way their eyes fixed on her. How they enjoyed the steady motion of her walk and the sinuous grace of her movements.

As soon as he was able, one of the soldiers reached out and gripped her collar, hauling her closer. Ciara’s body froze up as the other closed in, trailing a hand across her thigh and up towards her hip. Her skin prickled, heat rushed through her. Surely, they weren’t gonna do anything here and now?

A finger played along the edge of her womanhood. The sudden contact made her jump, and the two soldiers laughed.

Ciara’s legs felt weak. Her body was responding to the touch even if that disgusted her. Heat bloomed between her legs, dark arousal edged with fear and despair.

“You can have time with a slave later,” The overseer snapped. “This beauty is for the customers only. Now stop messing around.”

The guard released her, and Ciara staggered away. The overseer closed a pair of metal cuffs around her arms Then he connected a new chain to her collar. Ciara did not ask if she was gonna be allowed more clothes. The answer was obviously ‘’no’’.

In this way, she was led back to the villa proper. The two guards flanked her, their presence was silent but predatory. Each step was harder than the last. Each step brought her closer to her final fate, a humiliating existence as a slave and a fuck toy for anyone with the money to buy her. When she went too slow, one of the soldiers slapped her ass, laughing as she jolted forward. Her face was stained red now, she felt helpless and lost, adrift in a sea of shame and mortification. The leash cruelly pulled her along, forcing her to stumble into her own damnation.

The warm weather soon dried her skin, but that did not help when they got back to the more populated parts of the villa. People stopped to look at her, and soon she was the centre of attention. Ciara writhed in the spotlight, her skin crawled. She wanted to cover herself so badly, but her arms were bound. She was marched naked into the crowd, and a kind of cold horror filled her.
Their eyes swept her, lingering upon her body. Her breasts, her legs, her pussy and even her ass. Though no one was close enough to reach out and touch her, she felt as if she was being bathed in heat. Her pussy grew hot and wet, and she hated that as much as anything else. Her body responded while her mind recoiled in horror.

Oh gods, they were all seeing it! She wanted to bury her face in her hands, but she couldn’t, all she could do was try to endure. Ignore the jeers, the comments, the pointing and the laughing. Why was her own body betraying her like this?

Ciara had all the time been a beauty. Now everyone was gathering to have a look at the exotic Keltoi woman. Naked and in chains, Ciara was marched down the road. All who saw her agreed that she was certainly a striking figure, and her obvious arousal and despair made several people consider buying her there and then.

The road was now lined with wooden frames and poles to which slaves had been bound. Most of them were women. All of them were naked. Ciara felt a twisting blade in her gut as she saw the provocative poses into which they had been placed. Some had pierced breasts to which chains had been strung. One woman had been mounted on a wooden beam which pressed up between her legs, the weight of her body forcing her womanhood to spread upon it.

Another woman was chained to the ground on her knees, blindfolded and sucking the cock of anyone who wanted to use her. Between her legs, a wooden rod was attached to the ground and she bounced up and down on it as she went. Fucking herself for the enjoyment of others.

Ciara thought if that would be her fate. She imagined the feeling, something hard and stiff between her legs. A crowd of people watched her, jeering as she rocked back and forth. Her breasts would bounce and sway, her hips would rise and fall. The pleasure from each thrust of her body would fill her up with equal amounts of ecstasy and horror. The need to cum would create and create, but so would the knowledge that this was what the crowd was waiting for as well. That she was performing, amusing them all with her own desperate desire.

The overseer hurried her past the other slaves, moving down towards the centre of the auction. Ciara no longer knew what to do or think. All around her, slaves suffered.

Ciara was brought to a large circular courtyard. Here, the area was ringed with columns, each column supported a wooden frame, and each frame, in turn, supported a slave. This was the high-price area, where only the best slaves could be found. There were paths between the columns where a potential buyer could wander and examine the merchandise. Here and there, there was a guard to make sure that no one went too far, but by the moans and wanton gasps around her, Ciara guessed that very little was ‘’too far’’.

A column near the centre was picked out for her, and she was forced back against it. It was cold against her naked skin. Her arms were unbound, then rebound behind the column. The collar was left on, and the leash dangled between her breasts. The overseer stepped back, examining the work.

“Magnificent,” He said. “If I had more money, I would buy you myself! Such a good-looking slave girl! Between you and me, I have nowhere near enough money. But I can certainly enjoy a taste.”

He stepped forward then, his hand moved for her chest. His fingers drew a soft moan from her reluctant mouth. Her breasts flared with heat and stimulation, sending waves of shudders racing through her body. Ciara shook her head, but he didn’t care about that. One hand groped her chest while the other fell between her thighs. Ciara jerked; his fingers made contact with her pussy. Her clit pulsed with silent need. A wave of pleasure threatened to overtake her, and she gasped, tears prickled her eyes.

“Best get used to it, girl.” He said. “In a Rovanii auction, everyone is welcome to inspect the goods.”

He fingered her for a few more minutes, enjoying the wetness of her folds, and the involuntary sounds she made as he pressed his digits back and forth. Eventually – and with obvious reluctance – he tore himself away. The overseer gave her one last lingering look and left, the two guards trailing behind.

Now Ciara was alone. Now, at last, she had a chance to think. Despair filled her. Her pussy pulsed, her nerves silently crying out for more. All around her, slaves were moaning or gasping. They were being used, and soon she would be used as well. Ciara was torn, her two natures clashing. Her body did not care for the origin of the pleasure it was feeling, only that it continued. But Ciara knew better, and it horrified her what was happening and what had already happened.

Was this her life now?

Was this who she was?

She couldn’t break now, she couldn’t let this thing defeat her! But even as she wondered those words, the burden of the future grew greater and greater. Naked, ashamed, pinned out in a slave auction, Ciara felt that she could surely fall no further.

Time passed. It felt like forever, though it was probably only a matter of hours. As the overseer had promised, men and women circulated. Ciara soon found herself the centre of attention. Her naked walk having stirred interest in her body and her demeanour. She closed her eyes hard, but they still made her yelp and jump as they ran their fingers over her skin. They sparked her nerves and fired her arousal. Twisted her natural desires against her like a dagger.

Ciara felt powerless. Powerless and helpless as she was made to perform to gasp, to moan and to shake under the onslaught of strangers poking and prodigy and teasing her body.

Most of them were older than her. In their forties or fifties. Some of them made comments, comparing her breasts or her pussy to other nearby slaves. Others stepped up and examined her more personally. Ciara was subjected to a non-stop assault on her senses. Barely had one person finished with her than another started. Her pussy was wet, her legs were trembling. The chains which held her to the pillar were all that kept her upright.

Her dignity was gone now; she moaned and gasped, hating herself and her own body for giving in as it had. But each time someone touched her, the heat would flash through her, and she would begin to breathe more quickly. Her nipples were squeezed and stroked. Her breasts were fondled. Someone slapped one of them and watched as she jiggled. Someone else squeezed her nipple harder and harder until she begged them to stop. She was crying; there were tears in her eyes and she felt as if everything she was before was being torn away.

It wasn’t just her front; people examined her ass, clawing at it and slapping it. Ciara gasped as she felt something cold and hard forced between her cheeks. Her whole body arched as the group cackled at her despair and humiliation.

She began to grow more sensitive. People teased her, enjoying her horrified reactions. Her writhing, her gasps and moans. Pleasure bloomed through her body, hot and wet. It was tainted with the realisation of her helplessness. Her face was stained red and she begged them not to look as she climaxed. But no one turned away. She was a thing to them; a toy, not a person.

Her body bucked again and again. Hot waves of ecstasy flashed through her nerves. Her pussy was wet, the arousal beading her lower lips adding a new aspect to the humiliation. There had been toys provided for use with the slaves, and a marble dildo was used by one potential buyer to bring her to climax. He thrust it inside of her, pistoning it into her body as she writhed and moaned. Her cries grew deeper and more desperate as the feeling of climax flashed through her being. When she came, Ciara threw back her head. The pleasure which roared through her almost but not quite blotted out the shame of what had just happened.

But of all the people who visited her that day, there was one in particular. A man called Hadrian. He was in his early fifties, with a greying hair of head but a powerful body.

When she first saw him, she was already desperate. Her body was cold with sweat, and multiple orgasms had left her legs shaking. She was moaning softly, gasping as she tried to centre herself. When he saw her, his eyes lit up.

“This is what I have been looking for,” He cried. Several more people followed him, an entourage of slaves and servants. “Look at this one! She is a picture of beauty!”

Ciara felt his hands upon her chin. He tilted her face, looking into her eyes. Hadrian’s gaze was firm and commanding. He ran his hands across her body, his fingers skittered over her naked skin. Goosebumps rose in their wake. Heat washed through her, and he chuckled softly.

“Eager, are you? What is your name, girl?”

She blinked. In all of this time, no one had wondered to ask her her name. She thought if she should answer, his hands roamed across her chest, and the touch of his fingers against her nipples sent bolts of lightning rushing through her.

“C-Ciara!” She gasped, “I’m Ciara…”

“Ciara,” He mused. “Well, perhaps we will change it later.”

He turned away from her, walking back to his waiting followers. Her eyes followed him. By now, she was beyond desperate. She’d been forced to climax, been humiliated, toyed with by jeering people and forced to walk through town naked.

“I am Hadrian,” He said as he turned again to face her. “Perhaps your new master. The price for you is high, girl. But the competition is stiff. Many want to own you. To possess you. To fuck you.”

He used that last word ‘’fuck’’ as if it were some unsightly thing. Yet Ciara saw that his robes barely hid an erection, and the sight of her naked body clearly appealed to him. He stepped forwards, closing the space to her once more.

“You could be bought to be used as a whore,” He informed her. “Good-looking girls like you command a good price. You would be forced to have sex many times a day, with men and women you did not know. Are you not into women? Well, that would not matter to your owners. Only that you can perform.”

Ciara felt a stab of terror. She didn’t want to be used like that!

“You could be bought by a wealthy inn or bar to be used as a serving maid. You’d be naked, a thing to be ogled and groped. If you caused even the slightest problem for a customer? You would be punished severely. Sexually. Your humiliation would be the key for repeat customers, and there would be many who would come again and again just to see you punished.”

“No,” Ciara shook her head. She knew that he was telling her only the worst fates feasible, but she also knew that he was speaking the truth about them. The future stretched ahead of her, a toy to be used. A thing to be fucked and teased and punished. Chained, on her knees, naked and broken. Cumming until she didn’t even know she was a person.

“Or someone else could buy you,” Hadrian went on. “A wealthy man with a taste for women. You are very beautiful. Some would want you as a bed slave. Your only purpose being to fuck them. Chained to their home or perhaps even to their bed. Never allowed to wear clothes, your fate to be used again and again, degraded and drowning in pleasure and punishment as your new master decrees.”

Hadrian nodded to himself, running one hand through her hair, almost gently.

“Yes, that is the fate I would expect for you. You will never again see the light of the day. You will never wear clothes, never have rights. You will be fucked, used, and toyed with until your beauty expires and then you will have nothing.”

He said the words with such confidence, such surety that Ciara did not doubt he truly believed them. She felt panic bloom inside of her.

“Or,” He went on. “I could buy you.”

He cupped her chin again, gazing into her eyes. He didn’t look at her as a person, Ciara wondered. But more like a work of art. A painting or a statue. He was admiring her, but she was not a human to him, she was an object.

“They want a great price for you,” Hadrian said. “But I am a wealthy man, and I could buy you in an instant. I have many slaves and did not intend to acquire more. I am here merely as a courtesy, to add some tone to the evening at the request of a friend. But you, Ciara, have caught my eye.

She looked at him, her voice trembled. She hated how hot her body felt, the blood rushing to her face made her skin go red.

“If you buy me,” She managed to discover her courage, “How is that different from what you have said about the others? You’d use me in the same way.”

He laughed.

“Of course, I would.”

He ran one hand lower, his fingers stroking her sex. Her pussy throbbed, and her clit burned. The feeling was intense, worrying against her self-control. He stroked her, running his hands back and forth across her mound, stroking the outer lips of her labia. The motion was gentle but powerful, and he enjoyed the way it made her shake.

“I want to possess you,” Hadrian said. “Your beauty, your grace. I want to make them mine. But I am not a bad master. If I were to buy you, I would not see you broken or punished too heavily. I would want to preserve your qualities, like a fine work of art. The idea of you in someone else’s hands is sickening to me, and yet I will allow you to fall from my grasp; I will not buy you unless you beg me for it.”

She blinked, and a whole new wave of humiliation expanded through her.

“Beg me to buy you,” Hadrian told her. “Make me believe it. If you don’t, I will leave your fate in the hands of others.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes again. She was supposed to beg to be degraded? That wasn’t fair! That wasn’t right! But she could see in his gaze that he was not joking. He was serious, and Ciara quickly weighed the pros and cons of what he was offering. The idea of selling herself like this was horrible but she was already being sold, and at least Hadrian offered some limited freedom. She might be able to escape or do something later as long as she wasn’t locked up too tightly or watched too closely. If she was bought to act as a whore, she knew she would never get away. If she was made a serving maid, she would all the time be watched. And if she was a bed slave? She’d be truly doomed.

Hadrian was offering her something she could not afford to turn away, and he knew it.

“Please,” The words were like shards of glass in her mouth, and she glared down towards the ground as she spoke.

“Please what?” The senator said. “Be more specific, what do you want out of me?”

“I want you to buy me,” She grit her teeth, hating herself and hating the fact that she had to say those words.

Hadrian’s fingers pressed into her pussy. Ciara made a soft moaning sound as he entered her. Her hips bucked, and her clit buzzed with desire. He was inside of her now, pressing upwards, running his fingers back and forth in an intoxicating motion. She hated it, she hated how her own body was responding to it. How it filled her with delicious shivers and made her legs shake.

“What do you want me to do with you?” Harian whispered into her ear, his other hand was now sliding across her chest. His hungry fingers teased and played with her nipples. Her hands were still bound behind her back, and she closed her eyes. The feeling between her legs grew stronger and stronger, more urgent as his fingers gained speed and power. She was gasping, her chest rising and falling. His other hand played with her chest, rubbing and pleasuring her breasts with his fingers.

“You can do whatever you want with me, master.” Saying those words was like swallowing poison, but looking into his face she knew it was not enough.

“Fuck me!” She moaned, his fingers pumped back and forth inside of her, picking up speed. Penetrating her. Her body was shaking, her hips were rising and falling. It was hard to withstand the urge to press herself down against his hand. “Or…or make me into your whore… wrap me up in chains and toy with me until I want to scream! Just…just buy me please…”

Each word was harder to say than the last, and by the time she was done, her face was red and there were tears. She blinked, looking down at the ground.

Hadrian’s fingers continued to fuck her, moving faster and faster. Her breath caught in her chest, each penetration caused new pleasure to bloom inside of her, making her hotter and more sensitive than the last. She could feel the cold pillar against her back, the scratchy surface of the rope which bound her hands. Every inch of her naked skin which burned with desire and need.

Gradually, the pleasure mounted. Hadrian’s hands were deft and skilled, and he played her body like an instrument. He switched his focus from her pussy to her chest and back again, he tweaked and teased her nipples, played with her areola, rubbed her pussy and generally filled her with aching, growing need until she wanted to scream.

Just as she felt she was about to hit her climax, he pulled away. Ciara moaned with denial, the sudden cessation of stimulation hitting her like a physical blow. As she shuddered, the old man stepped back.

“I think I will take you up on your offer,” He said. “I think I will make you mine.”

NSFW: yes

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